A/N: Here we go with chapter 4. Enjoy! Sorry about the wait.
Disclaimer: I remembered I've been forgetting this. The WWE superstars and all related trademarks (blah, blah, blah, on and on) belong to Vince McMahon, not me. If they did belong to me, I wouldn't waste my time posting fanfics about them!
Jacinta made it back to her seat just in the nick of time. She had taken only one small detour, to get a soft pretzel for herself and a CinnaStick for Abuela. If Rey's match had already started, the sugary fried treat would placate her into low grumblings. If Rey hadn't emerged from wherever he had been hiding backstage, Jacinta would be happy to eat it. The previous match hadn't ended yet—a No Holds Barred match between Shawn Michaels and Vince McMahon—but it was winding down. It was obvious that Shawn was going to win. After taking an elbow drop off of a twenty foot ladder through a table—when he had a trash can on his head—there wasn't really a possibility that Vince would come back and win.
Soon the match was over. Fans around Jacinta cheered or booed, expressing their opinion. Jacinta stayed in her seat. She didn't need another Icy Majestic Glare this close to the SmackDown! main event.
Abuela, however, shocked the world by having an opinion. "The one with the hair was crude and unnecessarily violent. And the gesture he did..." She shuddered, remembering the crotch chop which offended her delicate sensibilities. Abuela clearly disapproved. She shook her head vehemently, dislodging her elaborate updo.
Mama tried to comfort Abuela, and they started talking rapidly in Spanish. Apparently, Abuela's disapproval was too big to be confined to only one language.
I'm too lazy to translate, Jacinta thought, and took a bite of CinnaStick.
The two women were silenced by P.O.D. playing Rey's entrance theme. Jacinta, Mama, Abuela, and all the lesser family members—aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.—arrayed behind them went absolutely insane. Only a few of the vast throng were fans like Jacinta—most were of Abuela's camp, and had just come out to support Rey. Still, fans of wrestling or not, they were all of the Mysterio clan, and the ignorant ones cheered just as loud as the ones who knew what was going on. A bunch of people who were fans of Randy Orton or Kurt Angle glared, but the Mysterios didn't notice, and if they had, they wouldn't have cared.
They had gone into a respectful silence after Rey's entrance (they could have unleashed a massive boo, but had too much class).
Abuela wouldn't stay quiet for long, however. "He is too big," she announced as Randy made his way to the ring. "Obviously on steroids."
"Abuela!" Jacinta exclaimed, at the same time as Mama did. Jacinta had considerably more venom than Mama did, of course. Randy was one of her best friends, while Mama only had a crush on him ("Invite that nice Randy fellow more often," she had told Jacinta on more than one occasion). And Abuela's accusations were totally baseless. Even a casual glance at Randy's Speedo would make it clear that no steroids were present.
As Randy was announced and made his way to the ring, Abuela sniffed disapprovingly. She did not like wrestling. Or any sports at all, for that matter. She had wanted Rey to be an accountant, not that anyone had bothered to ask her what she thought of her grandson's career path. She sniffed again.
Jacinta was tempted to give her the Slitty Eyed Look of Pure Scorn and Grudges Held Until the End of Time. She even felt her head swivel in Abuela's direction and her eyelids start to draw together, but she stopped herself. You didn't give the Look to your grandmother, especially if your grandmother had as impressive of an Icy Majestic Glare or Deliberate Ignoring of Child in Question in her arsenal as Abuela did.
Mama, having guessed Jacinta's intention—after all, it was Mama who Jacinta complained to for hours about Crystal—was giving her daughter her famous Warning Look. Mama's Look—sharpened from raising two stubborn, headstrong children—was potent enough to strike down even the most subtle sign of mischief at twenty feet. "I could work with the cops, keeping criminals from leaving the scene," she had joked, after finding her kids in the cookie jar. It wasn't fair that they'd gotten caught, Jacinta thought. Mama had made chocolate chocolate chip.
It still worked just as well, even though Jacinta was 15 years older. So Jacinta had to abandon her vendetta to get Abuela to admit Randy was hot. She put her chin in her had and watched Randy, vaguely wondering what kind of kisser he was.
It had been a great match, and much back and forth, Rey had walked away with the title. The eruption of his family was absolutely deafening. Abuela's brother Alejandro barely got out of being sued because the man he was sitting next to experienced hearing troubles after WrestleMania.
Jacinta lay on the bed in her hotel room—the same hotel all the wrestlers were at. She could hear Carlito in the room above her playing strip poker with a bunch of divas, and Snitsky practicing his growls two doors down. Jacinta reflected on the match. It had been excellent, and if she hadn't known any of the guys personally, she would have been glad that Rey had pinned Randy and not Kurt, after all the crap he'd been spewing. She sighed. He made an excellent heel. She wished he would turn back to 'face, but as long as he was so good at insulting people, there was no way.
It was pouring down rain. Jacinta would go out and dance in it in a little while, but for now she just wanted to enjoy the quite. Mama and Abuela—whose respective rooms were a floor below and down the hall—had taken the 619-mobile out to find some "real, true, authentic" Mexican food, "not that horrible stuff we normally have to deal with," for Rey's celebration later.
They'll probably settle for Chinese like they did last time they tried to find real Mexican food, she thought cynically. I hope they get some crab Rangoon.
Since the only two people who cared about her existence at that particular moment were out accosting the owners and chefs of various Mexican restaurants around the city, Jacinta wouldn't be bothered.
She got bored after about eight seconds of calm and peacefulness.
"I'm going out," she announced, as if anyone was listening. She cautiously checked the peephole, in case someone she didn't like was out there, and was immediately glad she did. She saw that…woman…Samantha, making a beeline for Randy's room, which was the big fancy suite at the end of the hall. When Samantha had turned a corner—that's how private Randy's room was, it was around a corner—Jacinta risked walking out into the hall. She heard Samantha's giggle coming from around the corner.
Jacinta didn't precisely slam the door—she wasn't that juvenile—but it did rattle in the frame a little harder than was absolutely necessary. Then she realized she'd forgotten her room key. "Oh, well," she said, suddenly happy that she'd forgotten the key. It meant that she couldn't go back into her room and mope, and that she'd have to go outside in the rain to mope.
She suddenly found herself in one of those moods, where she was willing to do anything because her life couldn't possibly suck any more than it already did. Passing Snitsky's door, she banged on it and yelled, "Ha ha, shut the hell up, fag!"
Then she ran. She had abruptly realized that if she was horribly maimed, her life would suck more than Snitsky sucked Tomko.
She made it safely to the stairwell before Snitsky lumbered to the door to see who it was. Suddenly Jacinta was overcome with a fit of hysterical giggles. I can't believe I just did that! she thought. Geez, my moods are all over the place. She started walking down the stairs. She bet she looked like a raccoon who had invaded someone's make up bag, but the stairwell ended in a door leading to the outside, so she didn't have to see anyone.
Jacinta stood in the rain for a while, getting completely soaked, and making her makeup streak even more. Then she puddle jumped. She was tempted to key Samantha's car—the license plate said MRS RKO, for the love of God—but, like her room key, she'd left her real keys in her room and wasn't going back to get them. Jacinta puddle jumped over to a metal, grated park bench type thing and sat on it. Behold, she thought. The beautiful overlook of the scenic Hampton Inn parking lot. She stared at the patterns the rain was making on the cars, and eventually fell asleep. How she managed to in such wretched conditions, she would never figure out.